


Reese is Pieces

by EliasCrow



Series: Reese [1]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slight Smut, War Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliasCrow/pseuds/EliasCrow
Summary: After serving in the Covenant War as an ODST, Warrant Officer Michael Reese boards the UNSC Infinity as a newly augmented Spartan-IV.  However, he will find that scars from the conflict that consumed much of his life are far from healed, and will make his journey to becoming a Spartan more difficult than he had imagined.





	1. Infinity

Reese felt the copper taste of blood in his mouth as he regained his bearings. He put a fist on the ground and pushed himself up onto all fours with a grunt. A drop of blood fell onto the inside of his visor from his lip.  
"You're moving like you're still a Helljumper, Reese," came Commander Palmer's voice through his helmet. "You're a Spartan now; try to remember it."  
Right, a Spartan, thought Reese sarcastically. These Wargames simulations had been kicking his ass, and he felt like he was only getting marginally better.  
"What's that they say about old dogs and new tricks?"  
Reese looked up to see the young S-IV that had moments ago kicked him through a wall.  
"I think it's something about not needing them," replied Reese as he took the hand he had been offered. "All these booster packs and scans and jetpacks and high speed shit is dizzying at best. What happened to running, gunning, jumping, and on occasion sprinting?"  
"Hey, the future is now!"  
"Alright, Spartans clear the sim. Next group's up." There was a hint of annoyance in Palmer's voice that went beyond her usual tough-love attitude she had for her Spartans.  
Reese suspected he was the cause of this, and his suspicions were confirmed when the message "My office. 1400" flashed on his HUD.  
"Fuck," muttered Reese.  
"You have a hot mic, Spartan," came Palmer's voice, and Reese just about wanted to kill himself.

Reese got out of his armor and made his way back to his room to shower and get out of his techsuit. One of his bunk mates, a young S-IV named Jones was there lying on her rack reading a magazine.  
"How were the Wargames, Old Dog?" She asked. It seemed most of the S-IVs by this point were in on the Old Dog nickname.  
"Pretty much same as last time," replied Reese as he rummaged through his wall locker. "I move like I'm drunk, and injuries from years ago are aching like they happened last week.  
He closed his locker and turned towards the younger Spartan.  
"I don't get it. Ever since the augmentations I feel like I'm in someone else's skin and I can't get used to it. Putting on the armor just amplifies the problems."  
"I wouldn't worry too much about it, man. Augmentations affect everyone differently. I felt all out of whack after mine; you just need more time. Besides, with your record no one's judging if you were to take a bit longer."  
That last statement got to Reese. He had never been given an inch of slack in his military career, and he wasn't about to be given any now. Not here. Not in the most elite unit he'd ever been in, in a career spent being elite.  
Reese got dressed without saying anything else and went off to find the chow hall. His watch said about a quarter past 1300, and eating would be a good way to kill time before he faced the chopping block.

At 1358 Reese was standing outside the door to Palmer's office next to her quarters. Typical military rules are arrive to anything 15 minutes early, but everyone knew that Commander Palmer believed such practice to be a waste of time used by those who otherwise had poor time management. She gave a time, and you showed up at that time.  
Reese stared at his watch for 2 more minutes and knocked on the door. It opened and he was face to face with his commanding officer. She was in fatigues but her hair was still tied back in a tight bun. Reese opened his mouth to speak but Palmer turned on her heels and motioned for him to enter the room. She took a seat behind her desk and made no motion for Reese to take a seat, and he made no attempt to or ask. He knew how this was supposed to go. Decorated career or not, Reese had been on both sides of this situation a number of times. Though he had to admit, it had been a while since he had been the one being reprimanded.

"You seem to have a problem, Spartan," opened Palmer. Reese took a beat and tried to get a reading from his commander. Sometimes these sessions were a bit rhetorical, other times they were meant to genuinely get feedback. As he scanned the features of Palmer's face he got lost in her eyes for a split second...  
Shit.  
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, hoping he hadn't just made a complete fool of himself within the first 30 seconds of this meeting.  
"Yes, I... I know, you don't need to just confirm what I said."  
This is going great  
"I want you to tell me what you think the problem is," continued Palmer. She wasn't yelling at him, but she certainly wasn't trying to coddle him. Her voice sat somewhere in the middle, which Reese found be both reassuring and unsettling. He was beginning to see why Palmer had been placed in command of the 300 Spartans on board Infinity.  
Reese took a breath.  
"I'm not entirely sure, Ma'am," started Reese. "Ever since the augmentations, everything's felt off. I know what the docs said about the first couple days being rough, but I've been on this ship 3 weeks now."  
"Why do you think that is?"  
Reese just stood there. Suddenly he didn't feel like himself. He didn't feel like the salty old Helljumper who had seen more combat than most of his new teammates had ever dreamed of. He was new. He was inexperienced, and he was being reprimanded by his CO for failing at training exercises. This was all new territory.  
Palmer sensed something was up and spoke before Reese could answer.  
"Why did you enlist in the Spartan Corps," she asked as she walked around her desk and leaned against the front of it, facing Reese.  
"Spartans are the future, Ma'am. It only made sense to make the transition."  
"Right, but why did you specifically? What was wrong with being a Helljumper?" continued Palmer. "I've seen your service file; getting pulled for ONI operations before you were an NCO, distinguished service medals times-three before you made Sergeant, then Staff not long after. You made Gunny almost as fast as Ed Buck, then you got an instructor spot and dropped a Warrant package. You could have gone back to a Helljumper line unit, but you didn't. You stayed in various instructor billets until you eventually applied for Spartan recruitment. You were good at being an ODST. Why stop?"  
Reese wasn't sure what point Palmer was trying to make. For what felt like the thousandth time since he'd entered the room, he stood there not knowing what to say. They stared at one another, eyes locked for a moment until Palmer sighed and went back to sit at her desk.  
"I'm taking you off the Wargames roster for the time being," said Palmer as she sat. "I personally think this is a problem that you need to sort out for yourself, and throwing you in there doesn't seem to be helping."  
"Ma'am, with all due respect I disagree," protested Reese. He felt like everything was slipping out of his control. "I can't accept being grounded, and I've already been slated to join Crimson Team."  
"The spot on Crimson will be filled," said Palmer. She made eye contact with him, reminding Reese that she was in charge and this was her decision. "You are going to figure out whatever it is that's going on in that head of yours that is keeping you from doing what you need to be doing."  
"Ma'am I--"  
"Enough."  
Palmer let that order hang in the air for a moment. Reese straighten up and mentally berated himself for almost losing his composure. Goddammit, why was he acting like some two-bit private fresh out of jump school?  
"Listen to me, Spartan Reese," Palmer stated deliberately, "I get that this is probably a difficult situation for you, but I will not be letting up on you because of it. You aren't performing, so I am going to give you a chance to work yourself out, and them I am going to ride your ass until you get better."  
She paused for a beat.  
"Back in jump school, my lead instructor said something to me that I've remembered as a leader; you baby babies. I'm not gonna baby you through this or cut you any slack because I'm setting the bar for you."  
She pick up his service record.  
"I've read about what you can do. Now show me you can do it."  
Reese saluted his commander.  
"Roger that, Ma'am."  
He left her office not sure if he felt better or worse than when he'd walked in.

Reese got back to his compartment and Jones was getting out of the shower. His two other bunkmates, Ames and Jin were watching a game on a handheld on the table.  
"Jones told us you had some one on one time with the Boss," said Ames. "How'd it go?"  
"I'm pulled from the Wargames roster and I just lost my spot on Crimson," replied Reese as he opened his locker. "Can't fucking believe it."  
"Don't sweat it, bro," said Jones as she started gearing up for Wargames, "you just gotta find your groove."  
Reese closed his locker and stared at the blank metal door. He'd never felt this way. He'd certainly felt worse, but never like this. Never like he was just failing.  
His frustration boiled to the surface and he slammed his fist into the locker door, denting it back and bending the frame. His bunkmates jumped a little at the sudden outburst.  
"That's a start man," said Jones.  
Reese looked up. Maybe Jones was right. Maybe it was a start.


	2. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking from a nightmare, Reese has a chance encounter with his new commander in the rec lounge.

Rain and enemy fire fell mercilessly on the ODSTs of Reese's platoon. They tried to return fire and take cover in the craters left by the Covenant artillery or hide behind the bodies of their fallen brothers. Staff Sergeant Reese watched helplessly as his men were cut down one by one. With his good arm he tried to shoulder his rifle and fire in the direction he thought the enemy lay. The truth was, they were practically surrounded. It was a bad drop, and they would all die here on the LZ.  
One trooper made it over open ground to Reese, and pulled his broken arm out from under the piece of rubble that was lodged on top of it. Everything was fucked. Where had Reese gone wrong? How could he have failed his men like this? They were brothers and sons to him.  
The trooper, Corporal Thrace, tried to pull Reese up onto his shoulder. Time slowed down. The rain practically stopped. One drop in front of Reese seemed to resonate with the energy of the battlefield as it fell to the ground.  
A shot from a Brute Spiker struck Reese in the chest and he fell back into the crater.  
The raindrop was two feet from the ground.  
Thrace turned to pick up Reese and a Needler round impacted in the base of Thrace’s skull.  
One foot from the ground.  
Thrace's visor depolarized and his eyes locked with Reese's.  
Six inches from the ground.  
Two more rounds impacted and Thrace began to glow as the rounds supercombined.  
Three inches from the ground.  
Thrace's head burst with a blossom of plasma as the supercombine went critical.  
The raindrop hit the ground, disappearing into the mud and guts of the crater.

 

Reese smacked his head on the floor as he woke up from the nightmare. He was wrapped in his sweat soaked sheets, his heart pounding against his chest, and his breathing fast.  
He stripped the sheets off himself and threw them at his locker as he sat on the floor leaning against his bunk. His face pressed into his hands and he tried to just breathe; the last image in his dream was burned into the back of his eyes.  
"You okay?" came Jones's voice in the dark. Her bunk light came on and she squinted down at Reese. Ames stirred awake as well.  
"Yeah... yeah, I'm good..." said Reese. He wasn't convincing anyone, the least of which himself.  
"You sure? If you need something bro..." started Ames before Reese waved him off.  
"No, no I'm fine really. I'm just gonna take a walk real quick," said Reese with a pained smile. He threw on some grey Spartan sweats and walked out of the compartment, leaving Jones and Ames to wonder what was bothering their troubled bunk mate.  
Reese made his way throughout the ship. While in space there wasn't much of a concept between 'night and day,' operational tempo on Infinity reflected that to create some level of normalcy.  
The flight deck was empty save for some birds getting necessary repairs. There were a few spartan armor bays on S-deck receiving some calibrations. The gym had a few lone late-night partakers. The mess decks were occupied by some night crew grabbing mid-rats.

Reese walked for a few hours, covering a good part of the ship before coming to the crew lounge/rec hall. The lounging booths, pool tables, eating area, and bar were all empty. The wall to wall, floor to ceiling windows on the outboard wall gave an open view of the starfield. Though Infinity was in Earth's orbit, the rec hall was currently facing away from home.  
Reese stood there for a while, just letting his mind clear are he looked into the abyss. His eyes focused and unfocused; the depth of the space before him seemed to stretch forever, but then be enclosed as if he could touch the stars. It was infinitely large, and intimately close. It was everything, and it was nothing. He felt the tension in his shoulders lessen slightly.  
Reese went over to the store fridge to grab something to sip on.  
"What is this, a late-night milk and cookies run?"  
Reese looked up to see Commander Palmer walking towards him from across the rec hall. She had on a Spartan sweat top and shorts. Her hair was tied back, but down instead of up in a bun. It looked like she had just been working out.  
"Uh... no, Ma'am.." began Reese. He wasn't really sure what he was being defensive about.  
"Relax," she said as she came up and took a sports drink out of the fridge for herself, "though if you were looking for cookies they keep them behind the bar."  
Reese wasn't really sure what to say, and just stood there holding his drink in his hand. Palmer downed hers and tossed the bottle into a recycler. She wiped some condensations from her forehead and turned back to Reese.  
"So, my problem child," she said with her hands on her hips, "if it's not the milk and sweets, what brings you here at --" she checked her watch "0327?"  
"Guess I just had some trouble sleeping, Ma'am."  
"You can drop the Ma'am when we're off duty, Spartan. I like to keep things professional, but not square."  
"Yes... Palmer," said Reese. He visibly winced at the awkwardness of what he'd just said.  
Palmer laughed as she grabbed another drink and moved to sit by the windows.  
"Did I really hurt your feelings so badly you can't sleep?" she jested as she took her seat. "I honestly didn't think I was too hard on you."  
"Oh no, it's not that," replied Reese. He moved over to stand next to her by the window. "I was just thinking about some stuff..."  
"Stuff?" inquired Palmer. She glanced up at Reese. He could tell she was sensing there was something bothering him, but he didn't really feel like diving down that rabbit hole right now.  
"What brings you here this late... or early?" asked Reese, diverting the conversation.  
"If I'm up late enough I sometimes just skip the sleep and get an early jump on the next day. It sucks, but sometimes in the field your op tempo can be like that. I think I say that to justify my voluntary self-sleep deprivation as another layer of training and not self-inflicted masochism. I like coming down here between a workout and the 'start' of my next day. Tom talked about coming here to clear his head sometimes so I've taken up the habit myself."

Reese caught Palmer referring to the captain of Infinity by his first name, and saw a look flash across her face as she realized she'd done so. They both ignored it and she pushed past the moment.  
"Speaking of which, my day is about to start," said Palmer as she stood and squared up to Reese, placing herself well within his personal space, "and then you'll have to start calling me 'Ma'am' again."  
The two of them stood there a moment, eyes locked in this somewhat playful stare down. Reese's gaze moved over his commander's face, and it occurred to him for the first time that she was 4 years younger than him despite being his superior. The light fell gently on her features, and the starlight made her eyes glisten. For a moment, the muscles in her face relaxed and softened.  
"I'll see you, Reese," and Palmer began to stride towards the door, leaving Reese to stand in front of the stars.


	3. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflecting on the Good Ol' Days can be a dangerous thing when doing so unlocks demons. Reese is forced to answer to Palmer for keeping his problems bottled up.

Without Wargames to take up most of his time, Reese found himself somewhat struggling to fill his empty schedule. He ran the O Course in a dozen different configurations, stripped and reassembled as many weapons as the armory would let him, and spent a lot of time in the gym, trying to figure out his new skin.  
It was 5:00am and the gym was comfortably filled for Reese; enough people he didn't feel weird about being there, but not so many he was fighting for any of the weights. A group of ODSTs and a group of S-IVs seemed to be in a friendly competition from across the gym of who could make the most masculine noises while they lifted.  
Reese settled into his workout. One thing he was at least liking about post-augmentation was his muscle recovery time. He could life pretty much all muscle groups, every day one after another. He started with legs, working the larger muscle groups with front and back squats, and focusing in on specifics with calf raises and lunges. After that was core, upper body, and finally fully-body lifts and a cardio cool-down.   
As Reese was getting ready to leave the gym, he felt a hand tap on his shoulder.  
"Nice ink you've got there," they said referring to the partially exposed tattoo on his left arm.  
Reese turned around to see a man who until that point he had known mainly through reputation; Edward Buck.  
"Nice seeing another Helljumper around here," said Reese as he shook the veteran ODST's hand. "You were in the 105th Div at Reach, right? 12th Battalion...?"  
"11th, actually. You were 10th Battalion, if I recall."  
"That's right," said Reese with a smile. "Missed out on New Alexandria, but saw plenty on Reach."  
"That was some rough shit," replied Buck. "Not a lot of guys from those days still in the service."  
Reese reflected on that for a moment. Buck was right, there weren't a ton of them left. Strangely enough, Palmer was the only other old-school Helljumper Reese knew on the ship.  
"Spot me a set real quick?" asked Buck as he tilted his head towards the bench press.  
The two of them moved over to the rack and continued their conversation.

"So you must've been there on Earth, right?" asked Buck as he placed his grip on the bar.  
"I was actually training boots in the wilderness when the Covies showed up. Missed the first wave of the action."  
"Well you didn't miss too much. You heard about what happened to the 65th with that suicide drop onto the Carrier."  
"Yeah," responded Reese with a hushed tone, "a lot of good troopers bought it on that one."  
"Feet first, right?"  
"Feet first."  
Buck finished his set and they moved off towards the locker rooms.  
"Listen, I gotta run but if you ever wanna catch a drink and shoot the shit about the good ol' days, just let me know," said Buck.  
"Thanks, I appreciate that." It was nice running into someone from the old days. As bad as they had been, fighting the Covenant from a losing side was something that had consumed most of Reese's life. All this relative peacetime felt unfamiliar.  
"See you around, Trooper."  
They shook hands and Reese went off to the showers.  
Reese closed his eyes and let the water fall over his face and run down his body. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed talking with another helljumper. There was a subtle way they all spoke; a lax-but-to-the-point way of talking.  
Reese bowed his head and watched the the drops fall to the floor. He thought about his old platoon..  
'Rodriguez, Andreason... what was that one kid's name... Montoya? Montana? No, it was Montoya, but we called him Montana.'   
The water fell down and Reese realized his vision was beginning to get tunneled.  
'Finn, Tracey, Thrace....'  
Thrace.  
Reese was vaguely aware that his pulse was bounding.  
'Thrace.. don't do it Thrace, just get down!,' he could hear the words like he was saying them himself.  
Reese pulled his head up and slammed off the water. He could still feel the water falling on his skin... like the rain.  
He stumbled out of the shower, his heart pounding in his chest. What the hell was wrong?! His chest felt tight, like he couldn't quite grab a breath.   
'I just needed to get out of this locker room.'   
Reese grabbed a towel and threw it around his waist. Someone asked if he was okay, but it sounded like it was miles away and underwater. All he could hear now was his heart, pounding at his eardrums.  
'I can't breath.. I can't breath!'  
He finally got the door open and practically fell across the hall and into the opposite wall. He hit his head and the image of the final moments of his old platoon flashed before his eyes.  
'I need to get out of here!'  
Reese pulled himself along the wall with the railing. His heart was pounding, he was breathing fast, and his vision was getting worse. He'd been in countless battles and had never felt this helpless.  
"Spartan!"  
Reese turned and saw Palmer standing in her armor staring at him. The expression on her face went from one of anger to confusion and concern as she realized it was him.  
"Reese?!"  
He fell towards her and blacked out.

Reese found himself waking up in sick bay, a medic at his side and Palmer standing at the foot of his bed staring him down. She was in her armor and her arms were crossed; she didn't seem particularly happy.  
"Thanks Doc, I'll take it from here," she said to the medic. He left without needing to be told twice.  
"So," began Palmer as she pulled closed the curtains, "you want to tell me what's up?"  
Reese shifted his weight in bed. This wasn't a conversation he particularly wanted to be having, least of which with Palmer.  
"I'm not really sure what to say, Ma'am."  
"Not sure what to say?" She was not happy. "Reese, you had a full blown panic attack in the locker-room showers, and then stumbled into the hallway. As you can imagine, it's all anyone is talking about on the entire ship; 'the Spartan who freaked out in the shower and ran around naked!'"  
Reese just sat there, staring at his lap. He couldn't bring himself to look at his commander. A small part of him thought that maybe if he just stared hard enough at his sheets she would go away.  
"Look," the edge in her voice had diminished slightly. Reese look up from his lap. "We've all got problems. We've all got baggage. I can imagine you've seen your share of fucked up shit being a Helljumper for 15 years. What I can't have is my Spartans bottling up there problems and letting that prevent them from being able to perform."  
"With all due respect, what the hell do you want me to do?" Reese surprised himself with his own boldness, but kept going. A hatch had opened somewhere inside, and he let the feelings flood out. "You want me to show up here and ask to see a shrink?! I can't exactly see that helping me career."  
"Well freaking out every time you take a shower isn't going so well, is it?!"  
The two of them stared at each other for a beat, fuming. Reese felt livid. At Palmer, at himself, at the docs... He was vulnerable and open, and he didn't like it. How could he have let himself get in this situation. Why couldn't he have just handled his problems?  
"You don't need to talk to a shrink," said Palmer, "but you need to talk to someone. Hell, I asked you why you thought you were having problems, Reese. You could have told me."  
"I really don't see how you could have helped me," replied Reese. Palmer looked taken aback by this statement.  
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" she said.  
"You know," said Reese, "you were a Helljumper, so I figured you of all people would understand why I chose to keep this to myself. You think we could have ever just said, 'hey guys, I can't do this drop. I think I'm feeling a little sad today.'"  
"Reese, that's the stupidest thing you've said yet. That macho-bullshit has no place here."  
"Regardless, what do you think?!"  
"I'm not going to have this conversation," Palmer said as she turned to leave.  
"What did you want me to do?!!"  
"Dammit, Reese!" she said as she spun around.  
There was a pained look on her face, and something in her voice that made Reese stop. She seemed genuinely hurt, and Reese suddenly had a feeling of guilt creeping in his gut. Their eyes locked and for a moment Reese thought her eyes might swell with tears, but they didn't.  
"Reese... what the hell am I gonna do with you?" Palmer seemed to be saying this more to herself than to him.   
The pit he in his stomach swelled, and he felt his throat tighten.  
"The docs say you're cleared to leave," she said with a resigned look on her face. "I can't order you to seek help about this whole situation, but I'd recommend it. Consider yourself off the roster indefinitely until we figure this out."  
A pregnant silence filled the air, and the two of them sat there, neither one looking directly at the other. Reese wanted to crawl out of his skin, hoping the moment would pass.  
"You know," Palmer said, breaking the silence. Her voice was hushed, and she didn't look up at him. "I mean that; you could have come to me."  
She turned and left without another word, and Reese bit into his lip to keep tears from coming out.


	4. Intoxicating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reese turns to Ed Buck for some advice over a shared bottle of whiskey. Following the discussion, Reese runs into Palmer slightly more inebriated than he would have preferred.

Reese spent the next few days feeling just about as bad as ever. He fell into a routine, but he couldn't get his encounter with Palmer out of his mind. Whether he was reassembling weapons, running the O Course, lifting, running, or swimming... his mind was on the things she'd said to him, and some of what he'd said to her. Reese regretted a lot of what he'd said, but didn't know how he could go about apologizing.  
On the instances he did run into Palmer, he could never bring himself to stop her and talk. In the passageways, he would salute her and she would return it along with a formal 'Spartan.' No jesting, no 'Problem-Child.' Reese would prefer that to this wall that had seemingly formed between them. Somehow, it looked like he had made things worse than they already were. It was so bad that if they were in the same room, you could tell people were waiting to see if anything would happen.  
After about a week, Reese decided to take Buck up on his offer to get drinks. Palmer was right; he needed to talk to someone. Even if he wasn't ready to talk his nightmares, he certainly needed to talk to someone about his current situation. Buck seemed like his best bet. Reese may not have known the guy personally for very long, but he had been a Helljumper in the old days, and Reese felt like he could trust him.   
Reese made his way to the rec lounge at 2300 to find Buck waiting for him at the bar. A few souls remained shooting pool and relaxing, but overall the lounge was empty. Reese took a seat next to Buck, the latter with a glass of amber liquor already poured.  
"What's your poison, partner?" asked Buck.  
"Whiskey, scotch or Tennessee. I don't do rye," replied Reese.  
"He'll have what I'm having," Buck said to the bartender. Reese flashed his liberty card to show he was off duty, and the man obliged. Reese took a sip and let out a sigh.  
"Damn, what is this? It's good."  
"Gentleman Jack," said Buck with a smile. "I had the ship's logistics officer stock it. It's also conveniently not on the menu, so I've got the stash to myself."  
"Thanks for letting me partake," said Reese with another swig.  
"I figured you could use it," said Buck as he turned to Reese, "which brings us to the topic of discussion."  
Reese may have wanted to talk, but that wasn't making it any easier to do so. Still, he begrudgingly appreciated Buck for not letting him dodge the issue. Reese took a sigh, a swig, and started talking.  
"I think I fucked things up something proper with Palmer.."  
"Oh, you think?" said Buck. Reese scoffed at the humored remark.  
"I just... I figured she would understand," said Reese. "I mean you know. You know how ODSTs are. It's not like we're gonna open up about something like that."  
"Maybe," said Buck. "But then again, maybe she just was hoping you'd have kept her in the loop. Think about what you would have done if one of your corporals had been having trouble."  
Reese thought on that for a moment. He would probably have done just what Palmer had done. The difference was any one of his Corporals would have sat there and listened. He on the other hand hadn't acted like a soldier talking with his superior. He'd lashed out. That pit in his stomach came back, and he threw back the rest of his drink and had the bartender pour another.  
"I said some pretty shitty stuff to her." Reese stared into his glass. "Not really sure why I did."  
"We all make mistakes, bud. The important part is realizing when we do."  
"I just can't figure out why I'm having such a hard time dealing with stuff. Plenty of people saw just as bad and worse, and you don't see them struggling."  
"Whoa, hang on," said Buck. "Listen, just because you don't see them struggling doesn't mean they aren't. You're right, a lot of people have a lot of scars from the last war. The mistake you make is thinking you're alone in having problems with that. What you might be alone with is trying to take it all on by yourself. I'm not saying you were wrong to not see a shrink, but you gotta have someone help you carry the load. The commander talked to you about that, and you should recognize that effort."  
Buck turned back to his drink.  
"Besides," he continued, "I think she's got a bit of a soft spot for you."  
"Oh yeah," said Reese with a laugh, "I'm the Problem Child."  
"Yeah, something like that."  
Reese's ears perked up, and he wasn't entirely sure if Buck was implying what Reese thought he was implying. A part of him sure hoped so.  
"In any case, I think you owe her an apology if you want to solve this thing. You can't get to the root of your problems if you're stuck up on this issue between you and Palmer."  
"I'll drink to that," said Reese as they clinked their glasses.  
A couple hours later the bar closed, and Reese was stumbling his way back to his quarters. Well, he wasn't sure he was stumbling. His increased metabolism meant the liquor hit faster, but he needed more to keep it in his system. By the time they left, he and Buck had had bottle each and Reese was feeling... comfortable.  
He turned a corner and ran right into none other than Commander Palmer on her way back to her quarters from one of her late night workouts. Reese steadied himself with his hands on her shoulders, before standing on his own. They stared at each other for a beat, both not having expected to run into the other at this time of night.  
"Uh, sorry about that... Ma'am," said Reese. His speech was a little slurred and he was trying to not make it too obvious he had been drinking.   
It was obvious.  
"Hey Reese," said Palmer. "Are... uh... are you doing okay."  
"I am! Actually, I am doing okay... Thank you, by the way, for asking. I appreciate that. Really, I appreciate you asking how I'm doing."  
Pull yourself together you moron.  
Reese stopped himself short of putting his hand over his mouth to stop himself from talking so much. He had gone over with Buck what he would say when he saw Palmer, he just didn't plan on seeing her so soon, and while still drunk.  
"Look Reese, maybe we should get you to your bunk..."  
"Wait, lemme just say something first," said Reese as he put a finger out. He placed his hands on his hips and took a big sigh to compose himself. Palmer had a look of near utter confusion on her face.  
"I'm... really sorry about some of the things I said to you, Sarah." Reese hadn't intended to say her first name, but it slipped out and he pressed on. "You were right and you were just trying to look out for me and I'm not gonna try to justify anything I said because it was wrong and you were just trying to--"  
"Reese, please stop."  
Reese stopped and stared at Palmer. Had he said too much? He started feeling that pit in his stomach again.  
"Look, I should apologize too." Palmer was staring at her feet while she said this.  
"You? Sarah, you didn't do anything wrong what do you have to apolo--"  
"Reese, please just shut up."  
Reese shut up. Palmer looked up at him and she almost smiled. It occurred to Reese that he was swaying a little from side to side, so he grabbed the railing on the side of the wall. Palmer giggle a little before continuing.  
"That night in the rec lounge, you said you had something on your mind that kept you from sleeping," Palmer continued. "I had a feeling there was something really bothering you, but I didn't want to be the one to worry about it. Maybe if I'd said something then, none of this would have happened."  
"That's not your fault, I should have talked with someone before--"  
"Reese, we really could argue about this all night but I think that's besides the point."  
Palmer was right. They were both trying to say the same thing, and were now just bickering over who had the most blame to carry.  
"We both messed up a bit?" said Reese.  
"I'll settle on that," said Palmer with a smile. "Now I think you need to get to your bunk before you pass out again."  
"Lemme walk you to your quarters," said Reese, surprising himself with the proposition. "It'll give me more time to sober up."  
Palmer chuckled a bit. Reese wondered if he was making a big a fool of himself as he was starting to feel.  
"Okay," she said. "Let's get you sobered up."

The two of them made their way towards Palmer's quarters, with Reese spent more time than he realized using Palmer to help carry his weight. They laughed and joked the whole way, mainly about Reese's level of intoxication; he felt more relaxed than he had the entire time he'd been on Infinity. They eventually reached Palmer's hatchway, and Reese was marginally more sober than when they had embarked.  
"This is me," Palmer said. "Thanks for the escort, Spartan."  
"Nice place," Reese said, still enjoying his buzz and in significantly brighter spirits. "I'll have to come visit you sometime."  
"Oh my gosh," laughed Palmer. "You need to go to bed, Reese."  
"That I do, that I do." Reese made an effort to compose himself. "Goodnight, Sarah" he said with a smile.  
Palmer stood there smiling back.  
"Goodnight, Michael" she said, calling him by his first name. It caught Reese off guard, and before he could respond she planted a kiss on his cheek. Reese's face went flush and he just stood there. Palmer chuckled and stepped into her quarters.  
"Get home safe," she said as she shut the door.  
Reese walked all the way back to his quarters without stumbling once.


	5. Victory and Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Reese's success in Wargames, he and Palmer's feelings collide once again in the rec lounge. But Reese's inner demons continue to emerge, complicating his ability to form bonds.

"Royal 2, what do you have?"  
"Nothing," said Reese from behind his sniper rifle. "My board is clear."  
"Royal 3," came Jones' voice again.  
"Royal 3 and 4 have nothing," replied Ames.  
Reese had been back in Wargames for a week now and felt like he was actually getting into a groove. He was feeling more like himself, though the armor he was still getting used to. At times he felt it was a little more twitchy when behind a sniper rifle than he'd prefer, but he was making due.  
"Royal 1, I think I have something," said Reese. It may have been nothing, but Reese was pretty sure he caught the familiar glimmer of a Spartan in active camo across the ravine. "Grid 8.4 - 4.5; think it's active camo."  
"Royal 2, if you have a shot take it and relocate."  
Reese gave a confirmation light to his team lead's helmet and squeezed the trigger, sending a round towards the glimmer that was now moving fast for a flanking position on the ridge. The round struck the opposite team's Spartan square in the helmet, killing the active camo and cutting right through their shields. That was one 'EKIA' for Royal in this scenario.  
Immediately the sound of gunfire erupted from across the map and Reese rolled sideways off his rifle as rounds impacted where he had been. Over teamcomm he could hear Royal 3 and 4 engaging the other team's over watch position as well. Reese grabbed his rifle and took off to get a better vantage point.  
He made for the ridge that his foe had been trying to get to. With the other team's over watch engaged Reese had a brief window to cover the open ground. He bound up the side of the ridge and slid on his belly into a prone position as he shouldered his rifle. A light blinked in his HUD signalling Royal 3 and 4 were out of the fight.  
"Royal 2," came Jones's voice "3 and 4 are out, but they got the over watch. I'm coming to you."  
"Check," replied Reese. He would cover Jones's retreat as she made her way to the ridge.  
Jones came into open ground and her shields shimmered as she took fire from what sounded like a DMR. It would eat her shields fast if Reese couldn't get a shot off. He shifted is weight to his left, panning is rifle right and squeezed off a round when he saw his enemy. A round hit the Spartan square in the chest, dropping their shields, but not finishing them off.  
Reese scoffed at himself for not getting the head shot and sent two rounds in quick succession downrange. The first hit the enemy Spartan in the head, with the second right behind it.  
"Only one more out there," said Reese.  
"I'm right here, actually," came a voice behind Reese. He spun around just in time to get a two magnum rounds in the head.

 

"I don't think we did too bad, all things considering," said Ames as Fire Team Royal left the Wargames simulator. "Sure, 3 losses isn't something we'd want, but it's against other Spartans."  
"I should have gotten that head shot," said Reese. "I wouldn't have needed the follow-up shots, and would have been able to keep an eye on my motion sensor."  
"I wouldn't be too worried about it," replied Jin.  
"In any case, I'm gonna go talk with the armor techs and see if we can work on some calibrations; I still feel like the armor is throwing me off when I'm shooting. See ya back in the rack."  
As they arrived on S-Deck, Reese went to the diagnostics lab while his teammates went to their BROKRRs to get out of their armor. After a few hours of what the techs told Reese were micro-adjustments that should have little-to-no effect on his shooting, Reese got out of his armor and made his way towards the chow hall.  
The diagnostics had taken longer than he'd planned, so he'd messaged his teammates to grab chow without him earlier. Halfway to the chow hall, Reese decided to grab a snack in the lounge instead and relax. It had been a good day and he was making progress, but he still felt like it was taking a lot out of him to perform on par with his team. He would grab a few chicken salads and relax in front of the star field before going to bed.  
The rec lounge was pretty empty, much to Reese's relief. He wanted to relax and didn't need some young S-IVs fighting over a game of pool to bother him. A few people were getting drinks at the bar, and a Spartan Reese could have sworn was on Blue Team's roster was relaxing in a corner by the windows with a very small female. She caught Reese staring and gave him a look which made Reese decide it was best to leave them undisturbed.  
After grabbing a large chicken salad, Reese took a seat on one of the couches in front of the windows. He ate in peace, enjoying the calm and quiet. Reese's eyes started feeling a little heavy, and he set his salad down and reclined back in the cushions. Maybe he would take a power nap here before heading to his rack. It was a long walk, and it wouldn't hurt to relax a little...  
"Heya, Spartan!" said Palmer as she vaulted over the back of the coach and landed next to Reese, startling him awake.  
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Palmer as she tried to suppress her laughter, "were you sleeping?"  
"I'm gonna be honest," replied Reese with a smile. "You just about scared the shit out of me."  
"Well, I'm just trying to keep you on your toes." Palmer gave Reese a playful punch on the shoulder, and he glanced the other way as he felt himself blush.  
"I saw the after-action report from Royal's match earlier," said Palmer in a slightly more serious tone. "Buck was in the booth for it and said you're getting better."  
"Better than shit isn't that great, to be honest," replied Reese. He felt rather silly all of a sudden, and wondered if Buck had told Palmer he'd done better than he had. Reese made a note to have a word with Buck about it.  
"Uh, spotting and hitting a moving target in active camo from 400m?" said Palmer "I wouldn't call that shit."  
"The target moving makes it easier to spot in active camo," retorted Reese  
"You're a perfectionist, Reese" she said, "and I appreciate it because believe me, not everyone I deal with is. But you should know when you've scored a victory."  
Reese rubbed his eyes. He really didn't want to get into an argument with Palmer, especially not here, sitting with her on a coach in the rec lounge. But at the same time, he had that feeling in his gut that he couldn't just take praise he didn't feel like he deserved.  
"Look, I don't want to argue," began Reese as he turned back towards Palmer, "but I just feel like--"  
"Reese, oh my God," said Palmer with a smile that was more to suppress her frustration than anything. "Just... take the win. For once, can you just take the win?"  
Reese sat there, staring at Palmer"s big, brown eyes. Every part of him was telling him to do exactly what she'd said, and just take the victory and relax. For whatever reason, he opened his mouth to talk again.  
"I just feel like I--"  
Without a second thought, Palmer put her hand behind his head and pulled him in for a kiss. For a split second, Reese felt like every muscle in his body tensed up; he was caught completely off guard. Then, everything relaxed and he put his arms around Palmer and pulled her so she was lying across his lap.  
The two Spartans stayed there, locked in embrace for a few beats. Eventually Palmer pulled back and they opened their eyes. Reese stared down at his commander, as she looked up at him with her arms wrapped around his neck.  
"Hey," she eventually said with a smile.  
"Uh... hey," replied Reese. "What, uh... what brought that about?"  
"I really needed you to just shut up," said Palmer.  
"Oh... well, uh in that case..."  
"Shut up, Reese."  
And Palmer kissed him again.

**********

Rain and enemy fire fell down on Staff Sergeant Reese and his platoon. This op was fucked, and they were going to die here.  
I'M DREAMING. I KNOW I'M DREAMING AGAIN.  
Reese lay there, his arm pinned under a piece of rubble. A trooper came running towards him.  
NO, THRACE DON'T DO IT.  
The trooper took their helmet off as they knelt next to him.  
It wasn't Thrace.  
"Sarah, what are you doing?!?!"  
"I'm getting you out of here!!"  
NO, I DON'T WANT TO SEE THIS.  
She pulled his arm free and hoisted Reese up.  
NO!!!  
"Sarah, GET DOWN!!"  
"We need to get out of here, Reese!"  
WAKE UP, GODDAMMIT!! I NEED TO WAKE UP!!  
A spiker round struck Reese in the chest and he feel back to the ground. Palmer turned to him and it all happened in slow motion.  
NOOOO!!  
"SARAH!!!"  
The first needler round struck her in the neck and her eyes glazed over.  
NO! WAKE UP!  
The second round struck her in the head and blood sputtered from her mouth.  
"SARAH!!!!"  
Time seemed to stop, and Palmer turned her bloodied head towards Reese.  
"Reese..?"  
"SARAH, GET DOWN!!"  
"Reese?!?"  
The third round struck and her head began to fragment, but she didn't stop saying Reese's name.  
"SARAH, SARAH!!!"

"Reese!!!"  
Reese bolted upright in bed as Palmer finally shook him awake. He was drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel his pulse in his eyeballs. Disoriented, Reese rolled out of bed and braced himself against the wall, hist chest heaving up and down uncontrollably.  
"Reese what the fuck, are you alright!?"  
Reese turned around and locked eyes with Palmer. Her auburn hair was down over her shoulders, and her eyes stared back at him with concern and worry.  
Reese took in a long, sharp inhale as he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing somewhat. When he opened them Palmer had gotten out of bed and held his face in her hands.  
"Reese... my God, what's wrong?" she said.  
Reese collapsed to the floor, sobbing. He was broken. Completely and utterly exhausted. Palmer wrapped her body around him him and let him cry into her chest. After a few minutes she helped him to his feet and practically carried him to the shower. She helped him sit on the ground and turned on the water, then took a seat beside him. They sat there together until Reese's sobs finally died down, and he tilted his head back to let the water was over his face.

"I can't do this," said Reese eventually. His head bowed down between his knees.  
"Look," said Palmer after a beat, "I understand that you're going through something... really difficult. But I don't want you to shut yourself away because of it."  
"It's not just that..."  
How would he explain this. Reese wasn't even sure how to explain to himself his nightmare. He just knew he didn't want to ever see it again.  
"I care about you, Sarah." Wow, it had been a long time since he'd said something like that. "What I saw in that nightmare... I just... I can't see that again."

This time Palmer closed her eyes and rested her head against the shower wall. Reese looked at her, and could swear there were tears hidden behind the water. He leaned over and rested his head against her shoulder, and she rested her head on his.  
"Don't shut me out, Reese," she said. "Please, just don't try to take this on on your own."  
"I'm not sure that's my choice to make."


	6. Backslide

"What the fuck was that?"  
Jones was pissed, and Reese completely understood why.  
"Yo, we got spread out across the fucking floor in there," said Ames.  
Fireteam Royal had just lost their 5th Wargames sim in a row, and this time it had been a clean 0-4 sweep.  
"Reese, c'mon what's going on?" Jin asked.  
Reese didn't answer, he just kept walking.  
"Reese!" said Jones. "Reese, we're your team, you gotta tell us what the fuck is going on."  
Reese stopped and turned around.  
"It's just some stuff I gotta figure out."  
"Well, figure it out sometime soon," said Jones. "Because the way things are going, we're gonna be borderline un-deployable."  
She strode past Reese and marched off towards S-Deck, Ames right behind.  
"Look man," said Jin, "just... if you need anything."  
Reese watched his last teammate walk to catch up to the rest of his team. He glanced at the datapad on his wrist and saw a message he'd just received.  
"My office. --P"

Reese walked into Palmer's office still in his armor. He didn't even make an attempt to stand at attention.  
"You wanted to see me?"  
Palmer had her back to him as she looked out over Spartan Town. She didn't say anything.  
"Unless you've got something to say," continued Reese, "I'd like to get out of me armor--"  
"You'll be lucky if you ever put that armor on again," said Palmer. Her voice was almost trembling with anger.  
Reese sighed.  
"Is this about my team's performance?"  
"No," said Palmer as she turned around, "this is about your performance. I would hardly say you are a member of Fire Team Royal."  
Reese bit the inside of his cheek to keep his composure. Palmer seemed genuinely hurt when she looked at him. He couldn't blame her; over the past 2 weeks he had gradually reduced his time with her to the point of avoiding her entirely. He just... couldn't let himself get close to her again.  
"You have been anything but a teammate," Palmer continued. "In Wargames, you're not functioning cohesively. Outside of Wargames, you sticking to yourself. You don't go over after-action reports with them. Hell, I've even heard you've been sleeping in the rec lounge!"  
Reese said nothing. He bit deeper into his cheek and stared into the middle-distance. Palmer moved around to the front of her desk and stood right in front of Reese.  
"I just watched you empty and entire mag from your sniper and hit nothing. NOTHING!"  
Reese kept biting.  
"Goddammit," shouted Palmer, "will you look in my eyes when I'm chewing your ass, Spartan!!"  
Reese made eye contact with Palmer and his throat seized immediately.  
Don't you fucking dare cry.  
"You are going to need to figure out how to work with people, Reese." Palmer's voice was lower now, but the intensity was still there. "If you can't open up, you'll be mustered out. On my recommendation. Now get out of here."  
Reese left her office without a word. Once he was in the hallway he put his helmet on so no one would see the tears.

*******

Reese stood in the rec lounge, staring into the stars. Forced to retire. Muster out. Pass the buck. It wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd be doing; he'd almost always assumed he'd die fighting. Reese looked down at his hands. Maybe he was at his limit. Maybe he had burned out. Reese clenched his fists and closed his eyes.  
"Good place for reflection, isn't it?"  
Reese turned around to see Captain Lasky approaching him.  
"Sir," said Reese as he came to attention.  
"At ease, Spartan," said Lasky with a wave. "I'm just doing some reflection myself."  
He came the stand next to Reese and stood looking at the stars with his arms crossed.  
"Really makes you think, looking out into the abyss," he said. "Kind of puts things into perspective."  
"I suppose so, Sir," replied Reese.  
The two of them stood there for a few moments before Lasky spoke again.  
"You know she cares about you."  
Reese didn't respond. He didn't know how to. He'd known Palmer and the captain were close, but didn't realize she'd confided in Lasky about their relationship. If they even had one, anymore.  
"I've made mistakes that got people I cared about killed," Lasky said, changing the subject. "I was a cadet and I got some people killed when the Covenant showed up."  
Reese glanced at his captain. He had no idea a Navy squid like Lasky had faced Covenant forces on the ground, let alone as a kid. He had respected him nonetheless, but it still came as a surprise.  
"You know I still see their faces," said Lasky as he kept going. "If I close my eyes... sometimes when I dream... sometimes I dream they're still alive, or we're all still cadets before we knew what the Covenant was. Other times I see them dying in front of me."  
Lasky looked up at Reese.  
"I'm not saying I know what you're going through," he said "but what I've done is tried to live in such a way that honors their memory. I'm the one who made it, and there are days I can't get over that guilt. But the other days, I focus on living the life they tried to."  
Lasky's gaze went back to the stars, and Reese's followed. They stood there for a few more minutes before Lasky said he needed to turn in.  
"If you ever need anything," he said as he left, "my door is always open."  
Reese watched his captain leave, and returned to to the stars.

 

"Get up," said Reese as he switched on the lights in his bunk room.  
"Wuh..?" said Ames as he rolled over.  
"Reese, what the fuck?" said Jones.  
"I got us an extra slot in Wargames, we're on against Cyan in 30 minutes."  
"Reese, what are you talking about, it's... 0427, our Wargames rotation isn't until this afternoon."  
"I know, but I spoke with Grizzly's Team Lead," said Reese. "I'm gonna pull a few watch duties for him in exchange for this spot."  
Reese's teammates all exchanged glances.  
"I mean.." said Jin "we need the extra time."  
"He needs the extra time," said Jones. "And hey, he got it so let's get in there."

Royal fought all the way to 4-5, and that afternoon pulled a 5-5 draw against Crimson. In the after action Jones concluded that Reese's proactive action with a frag grenade had both secured the draw, but also cost the win. Jin argued that all enemies defeated qualified as a win in the battlefield.  
A day later and another two close Wargames matches, and the members of Royal received a message on their HUDs on their way to S-Deck.  
"Briefing room 1400 --P."

After getting out of their armor and changing, Royal found themselves seated in the briefing room. Palmer strode in with Lasky and an officer none of them recognized. They came to their feet and were waved back down my Lasky.  
"Spartans," began Palmer from the podium, "it seems you are showing you aren't as useless as you'd made yourselves out to be."  
Reese tried to avoid direct eye contact with Palmer and she appeared to do the same.  
"The gentleman to my right," she continued, "is from the Office of Naval Intelligence, and he has an operation for a Spartan Team here on Earth."  
Everyone shifted their weight. An op? Here? Now? And they were up for it? Reese himself forgot about the tension between him and Palmer and leaned forward in his seat. It had been years since he'd been on an actual op.  
"Now this is not a top priority operation, otherwise this Fire Team would not be under consideration. However, given the circumstances, I believe that this operation may be what is necessary to sort out... discrepancies in this fire team's performance."  
No one in the room was under any illusions about what Palmer meant.  
"You have a Wargaming scenario this afternoon," Palmer said. "If you win, this op is yours. You will receive your mission details then."  
"If I may," said the ONI spook. "Make no mistake. The use of this operation as a shakedown for this unit does not change the expectation from my office that it will be completed."  
"I wouldn't assign a Spartan Team if I didn't think they could accomplish their mission, Sir" said Palmer.  
Reese found some comfort in that last statement.

*********

"Well, at least we know where they are," said Reese.  
He was perched atop a building, staring at a Mantis and 2 warthogs from across the Wargames map.  
"This blows hard," said Jones. "The moment I call ordinance they'll be all over me in those Hogs, and then that Mantis will make mincemeat out of the rest of you."  
"So call the ordinance," said Jin.  
"I'm sorry, what?!" replied Ames.  
"No, he's right," said Reese. "Jones, call the ordinance. We're gonna need that firepower to take out the Mantis. Ames, jin... you guys will suppress the hogs when the come over that berm long enough for me to get some shots off. They're out of the fight before they can get to you Jones, and when the Mantis gets to the fight, you roast it."  
"Exactly," said Jin. "It sucks, but it's the only way we even the odds."  
"Fuck it, we're doing this," said Jones. "I want you guys to know, it still hurts getting stomped by a Mantis in Wargames. I'm getting killed by the hogs, so that's your problem."  
"Fuckin' rah," said Ames.

Reese pulled his rifle tight into his shoulder and zeroed in on the spot the warthogs would most likely slow when they started taking fire from Ames and Jin. He timed his breaths in anticipation but he still felt off. This was gonna be some fancy shooting and he wasn't trusting his armor to do the job.  
Reese keyed his datapad to flash when Jones called in the ordinance, and then removed his helmet and using the datapad shut off his armor power cell. He was essentially immobilized, but his fine motor skills were now manually controlled. He had also unfortunately cut himself off comms from his team, so this needed to all go well otherwise he had just screwed them all.  
Reese's datapad flashed and he started timing his breaths with his heartbeat. He would need 4 shots in short succession to take out the drivers and gunners in both hogs. Without extended magazines, he would spend his mag and have no time to reload if he missed any of his shots. There was the possibility that Ames and Jin could finish any stragglers, but if it was a gunner they would likely be no match for the firepower, and if it was a driver the hog would make it to Jones and she'd be splattered. Either way, the odds would be against them. He had to make these shots.  
Five seconds after the ordinance drop and Reese could see the dust kicked up from the hogs as they neared the burm. Another 2 and they mounted the burm and Jin and Ames let out a barrage of automatic fire from their ARs. The hogs slowed for a moment and Reese felt like time slowed for a moment. His hand squeezed and he spent the magazine in under a second and a half, sending all for .50 caliber slugs downrange towards his moving targets. The first two slugs shattered the windshields of the hogs and went right through the two drivers' visors. Before the hogs started careening off course, the second two slugs found their marks, impacting into the back of the two gunners helmets as they had turned to face Ames and Jin. Four shots, and four enemy EKIA.  
A few more moments and chain gun fire from the approaching Mantis sent Ames and Jin scrambling for quickly disappearing cover. Jones would need to make the shot with the Spartan Laser now. Reese had no time to reload and only watched through the scope of his rifle.  
Sure enough, the familiar tracer beam from a charging Spartan Laser danced along the front armor plate of the approaching mech. Another second, and the whole vehicle split in two as the powerful beam tore through it, shredding the armor and boiling the inner components.  
That was no KIAs for Royal, 5 EKIAs with 1 enemy heavy vehicle out of the fight.  
Reese powered up his armor core and donned his helmet.  
"That was some fancy fireworks there, Royal 1." he said.  
"Not as fancy as that shooting, Royal 2," replied Jones. "I want the replay tapes on that one!"

Fireteam Royal exited Wargames with spirits high. This was it. They had their op. They turned a corner on their way to S-Deck and found Commander Palmer standing there in her armor.  
"Reese, you're off the op," she said before anyone could acknowledge her.  
That stopped the entire fire team dead in their tracks.  
"I'm sorry, what?" started Reese.  
"Jones, you're Team Lead," said Palmer, ignoring him, "I can give you someone to fill the spot, or if you feel you'd be more cohesive without a newcomer you can go with three."  
Jones stood there, still processing what had been said.  
"Clock's running, Team Lead," said Palmer.  
"Uh, we'll... we'll go with three, Ma'am," she said.  
"Good, report to the briefing room," said Palmer. "Reese, go strip down. You might have a spot on QRF."  
Jin, Jones, and Ames exchanged glances with Reese and then made their way towards the briefing room. Reese turned and watched Palmer walking away.  
"Ma'am, can I have a moment?" he said as he jogged to catch up with her.  
"What's on your mind, Spartan?" she said without turning to face him.  
"What's on my mind is why the hell I'm off the op."  
"You're off the op," said Palmer as she stopped and faced him, "because you pulled the most reckless, cowboy stunt I've ever seen in Wargames and you could have gotten your whole team killed in that scenario. Not to mention you removed your helmet in the sim, which could have actually gotten you killed against that Mantis. Sim or not, you could've died in there."  
Palmer turned away from Reese and kept walking.  
"No risk I took in there was unnecessary, or put anyone in my team in any danger," said Reese as he kept up with her. "The risk was mine to take, and it won us this op. I deserve to be on it."  
"No, you don't deserve anything here."  
"With all due respect, I don't think you're looking at this objectively Ma'am."  
Palmer stopped and turned around to look at Reese.  
"Excuse me?"  
"I think you're letting your feelings get in the way of your decisions on this."  
"First of all," said Palmer as she took a step towards Reese, "don't you ever think that I can't make decisions without my personal feelings getting in the way. Secondly, don't assume that if they did, any feelings I have about you are strong to have an affect anyways."  
Palmer turned to keep walking but Reese put his hand on her shoulder.  
"Really?!" he said, "because I think you won't put me on this op because you're afraid to see me come back in a body bag!"  
Palmer spun around and hit Reese in the face so hard it put his head into the wall.  
He slid to the floor, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. He steadied himself on one knee and spit blood out onto the floor. When his ear stopped ringing he looked up at Palmer. Her fists were clenched and the expression on her face was livid. Despite that her lip trembled as she spoke.  
"You're off the op," she said deliberately. "Get cleaned up, and report to secondary briefing. If you're lucky you'll be on the QRF."  
Palmer strode off down the hallway as Reese pulled himself to his feet.  
"Well Reese," he said to himself, "you're really fucked shit up now, haven't you?


	7. Operation UPROOT

"Royal 1, this is Infinity," said Palmer. "The board is green, you are cleared to drop."  
"Infinity, this is Royal 1," came Jone's voice. "Board is green, we drop on my mark. Three, two, one, Mark!"  
"Alright," said Palmer, "Operation: UPROOT is underway. Your objective is to prevent Insurrectionist operatives from smuggling suspected Covenant technology off of Earth."  
Palmer was in Infinity's CIC in her armor, watching the board with Lasky and Reese. They were joined by the ONI spook from the briefing.  
Reese had a few stitches on his nose, what looked like it would become a black eye, and a swollen bottom lip. No one on the bridge crew cared to ask where the damage had come from.   
Palmer hadn't told Reese if he was off he QRF so he stayed in his armor. The pouches on his Soldier torso were filled with SMG magazines, and he held his Air Assault helmet at his side.  
"Twenty seconds to touchdown," said Lasky. The holograms of the drop pods showed their drogues had successfully deployed at ten seconds to impact, and they flashed green as the pods landed in the Amazon jungle.  
"Heads up on," came Jones' voice, and three helmet views from popped up on the display.  
Each Spartan signaled clear and they moved through the underbrush towards was appeared to be some kind of rundown compound.  
"Motion sensors on the perimeter fence," miked in Jin. "Jammed them."  
"Fence cut," said Ames, and the three Spartans moved inside the perimeter silently.   
Suddenly, 4 supposed old oil barrels opened up to reveal auto-turrets and the three Spartans' shields lit up as they came under fire.  
"Shit!" said Palmer as they scrambled for cover. "How'd the fuckers know they were there?!"  
"Infinity, this is Royal 1!" came Jones' voice. "Standby possible QRF mission!"  
No sooner had Jones said that when two dozen heavily armed personnel flooded out of on of the smaller buildings. A moment latter, and two wraith tanks burst of of the warhouse at the end of the compound.  
"Infinity, requesting QRF mission now!" said Jones.  
"Launch the Troopers!" said Palmer and two dozen ODSTs dropped out of the Infinity’s belly.  
"ONI had hoped this operation could have been accomplished with a less heavy-handed approached," said the spook with some annoyance, "it's the reason we asked for a Spartan Team in the first place."  
"And your intel said they were trying to smuggle Covenant small arms with minimal security," barked back Palmer. "Your intel was bull, and so we're sending in the cavalry. Tom, tell the launch bay to prep a pod; I'm going down there."  
"Like hell, you are," said Reese, "not alone at least."  
"Ugh, would you shut the fuck up, Reese. Tom, have them prep two pods."  
Reese and Palmer took off at a sprint towards the nearest maintenance ladder well, and slide down the ladder 10 decks before getting out and sprinting to another one.  
"You wanna tell me what you're doing, Sarah?" yelled Reese as they ran.  
"This op is fucked and I need to be on the ground," she said. "I wouldn't have sent them if we'd had the right intel. This is my fault. You wanna explain what you're doing?"  
"You need someone to watch your back," said Reese.  
"Like fucking hell I do!"  
"And they're my team, I should be there."  
They got to their drop pods and donned their helmets. Reese slapped a silenced SMG to his thigh and put a Spartan Laser inside his pod. Palmer had a DMR and climbed into her pod with a SPNKR  
"Your quals for flying these better be up to date, Helljumper!" said Palmer.  
"It's like riding a bike!"  
They dropped their pods and flew them down manually. The pods shuddered as they entered the upper atmosphere.  
"Sarah, I just wanted to say something," said Reese over a closed comms link.  
"Reese this isn't the time!"  
"I've said and done some pretty fucked things over the past few weeks."  
"Like it matters, shut up and fly!"  
"I just want you to know, if I had to do it again--"  
"Oh my God, I don't need any of that 'if I die bullshit.'"  
"Sarah if I had to do it again, I'd have still gotten bitch-slapped if it meant kissing you!"  
Palmer actually laughed at that.  
"Wow, you're a crazy motherfucker, Reese!"  
"So are we good?" he said.  
"Lemme kill some Innies and then I'll let you know!"  
Their pods impacted and they sprung out at a sprint towards the firefight which had now consumed the dilapidated compound and the surrounding jungle. The ODSTs had taken out one of the Wraiths, but the remaining tank had melted their Spartan Laser and the trooper carrying it.   
Palmer dispatched two rockets that shredded the Wraith's gunner, giving Reese time to lineup a shot with the Laser. He charged the laser and fired, piercing the alien tank's front armor and sending it into an explosion of plasma and flame.  
With the final tank out of the fight, the ODSTs and Spartans made quick work of the armed Insurrectionists. Reese saw Jones, but didn't see Ames or Jin.  
"Jones," he said over comms, "where are Ames and Jin?!"  
"Ames took some hits, Jin dragged him behind that shed!"  
Reese broke off as a few surviving Insurrectionists were cuffed. Palmer followed.  
They found Ames laying on his back with his helmet off. By the color of his face, he had lost a lot of blood. Jin was at his side trying to open his field kit, but his hands were shaking with the opening.  
Reese knelt next to Jin and placed a hand on his wrist. Jin stopped shaking for a moment and took a breath, before handing the kit to Reese.  
"Jin, go find the Troopers' Corpsman, we're gonna need his gear."  
Jin ran off to find the medic as Reese removed his helmet and leaned over Ames.  
"H-hey, Old Dog," Ames managed to say with a feeble grin. "Looks like you got your ass down here."  
"Well, a lot of good it did you to go without me," Reese joked. He got another small smile from Ames.  
"Look man," said Reese, "you've got bilateral fractured femurs, and one of your femoral arteries was severed. Now, the armor locked it down but you lost a lot of blood, so I gotta get some fluids in you. You ever have a fast one done on you?"  
"Ah, fuck I heard these suck," said Ames.  
Reese opened the med kit and laid it at his side. Inside he used a data-pad to sync with Ames's armor system and accessed the 'fast-one' inside his chest plate. Eight large-gauge needles folded out inside his armor and aligned with the upper part of Ames's sternum. Reese used the xray image on the datapad to be sure the alignment was right.  
"It's gonna feel like you're getting kicked by a horse," said Reese.  
"That doesn't sound too ba--"  
Reese activated the device and a pneumonic burst rammed the needles into Ames's sternum, knocking his wind out, and creating an access point into the bone marrow.  
"Hooo-ho-holy shit, that hurt."  
"That ain't the worst," said Reese as he attached a saline flush to the IO fluid access port on Ames's armor. He flushed the line, sending the fluid into Ames's bone marrow and clearing any obstructions that would prevent infusion. At the same time though, bone splinters from the initial access were flushed through the marrow.  
"Jesus, FUCK!" shouted Ames. "You motherfucker, that stings."  
Reese passed the used syringe to Palmer and she gave him a new one from the med kit. He flushed a second time to be sure the access was good. By this time Jin arrived with the ODSTs' corpsman.  
"I need A-pos blood," said Reese, and the Trooper tossed Reese a freeze-dried pack of blood product. Reese injected the bag with a solution from the med kit and the bag expanded as the blood rehydrated. He attached the bag's line to Ames's access and had Jin hold the it as Palmer started administering field antibiotics.  
After getting 3 units of blood product and a full assessment by the ODST Corpsman, Ames was deemed stable enough for transport. He was loaded on a Medevac Pelican as ONI personnel descended on the site for a full SSE. 

By the time everyone else got back to Infinity three hours later, the exhaustion started setting in. The excitement and adrenaline had worn off and Reese was definitely feeling it. As he walked off the flight deck to to Spartan Town, Palmer jogged to catch up to him.  
"Mind if I walk with you?" she said.  
"Not so long as you don't mind walking really slowly," he replied.  
Palmer chuckled a little.  
"Yeah, that good old after-op clip-clop."  
Reese looked at her and smiled. There were a lot of ODST inside jokes he hadn't heard in years and that was one of them. Everyone walked funny after a hard op; you were just so dang tired.  
"Good job done there," she continued, "helping Jin stabilize Ames."  
"I didn't really do much," said Reese. "The kid froze up seeing his buddy like that. He just needed some help."  
"Right," said Palmer. "He needed some help."  
Reese stopped walking and took a breath. Palmer turned around and looked at him.  
"Sarah, I'm sorry about all this," he said.  
Palmer took a step towards him, but Reese didn't meet her gaze.  
"I just... I was worried about getting close to you, or my team or anyone really. I've got some demons that I need to make peace with, and I've gone about it the wrong way. I dragged you and my team through my problems, and... I can't really say how sorry I am."  
Reese glanced at her, and they made eye contact.  
"And what I said in the corridor..." he continued, "about me in a bodybag... I can't believe I said that to you, and I haven't got any kind of excuse for that."  
"Reese, I've got nearly 300 Spartans I'm in charge of," said Palmer. "Everytime I send any of them on an op, I'm worried about them coming back in a body bag. That's why I don't let them go on ops I don't think they're ready for. That's why I took you off the op. Because I wasn't just worried; I'm always worried about my Spartans. I genuinely didn't know if you were ready for combat."  
Reese nodded. "I can understand that."  
"And... I'm sorry about what I said. About if I had feelings for you; I do care about you, Reese."  
Palmer took Reese's hands in her own.  
"And I'm glad you proved me wrong about if you were ready for combat," she said. "You did well, down there."  
"Not gonna lie," he said, "were were about halfway down before it occurred to me I haven't done a drop in about 3 years. Flipped my stomach for a moment."  
Palmer chuckled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  
"It's like riding a bike, right?"  
"Right."  
Palmer took a step back and put her hands on her hips.  
"So uh," she said while trying to keep from smiling too much, "you mean what you said about getting bitch-slapped?"  
This time it was Reese's turn to suppress his smile. He leaned in and pretended to whisper.  
"I would do just about anything to get a kiss from you, to be honest."  
"Oh, right" said Palmer with an exaggerated nod. They both had a laugh and turned to keep walking down the hallway.  
"Seriously though, sorry about that" she said.  
"Oh, no I deserved that slap," replied Reese.  
"Maybe a slap, but I fucked you up something proper," said Palmer. "How many stitched in your nose?"  
"Seven."  
"Lucky number. But honestly, I'll try avoid doing that in the future."  
"No complaints from me."


	8. Epilogue

Buck knocked on Palmer's door for the time before she opened it. She was holding a towel around her torso, and her hair was down but tellingly not wet.  
"Hey!" she said as she poked her head around the door.  
"Uh, you're looking... happy," said Buck.  
"Oh, yeah I've got one of those baths bomb things," replied Palmer. "Really looking forward to it."  
"Right, well the problem is... you're next up in the booth and there’s Wargames match was supposed to start 15 minutes ago."  
Palmer looked at her watch.  
"Oh.. uh.. shit, hang on!"  
Buck waited outside her door and pretended to ignore the hushed conversation taking place inside. Palmer poked her head back outside.  
"Hey, Buck... uh..."  
"Yes, I'll take your shift," he said before Palmer could ask.  
She reached one arm outside and placed her hand on his shoulder. "You're the best, Eddie."  
"Enjoy your bath," Buck said with a coy smile as Palmer went to shut the door.  
"Huh?"  
"Your bath. And that bath bomb."  
"Right," responded Palmer with a nod. "I will enjoy that bath bomb."  
Palmer turned around and faced Reese who was sitting on the edge of her bed in his shorts.  
"You're bad," she said pointing a finger at him.  
"What did I do?" he was innocently.  
"That was Ed outside," she said as she took off her towel and threw it in Reese's face. "I missed my shift in the booth."  
"Oh, must've lost track of time," said Reese playfully.  
Palmer pushed Reese back onto the bed and fell down next to him.  
"I've got a present for you," she said.  
Reese's face perked up and he perched himself up on his elbow.  
"Oh?"  
"Mhmm, lemme get it," she said as she reached for her bedside table.  
Reese rolled over and started kissing the back of her neck. She dropped her face into the sheets and groaned.  
"I'm sorry, what was that?" he said.  
"Stop for five seconds, Reese," chuckled Palmer.  
Reese stopped and allowed Palmer to fetched an envelope from the drawer.   
"Take a look at this," she said as she sat up and handed it to Reese. He opened the contents and Palmer wrapped her arms around him from behind and put her chin on his shoulder.  
"'Office of Naval Intelligence...'" read Reese, "'requests acquisition for formation of a new directive...' Sarah, what is this?"  
"ONI sent me a formal request for exactly one Spartan to be part of a new task force they're assembling," she said. "As a result of Operation: UPROOT, they've apparently gathered intel suggesting the proliferation of non-human weaponry is far greater than they had believed.  
"The request asks for," Palmer continued as she took the paper from Reese to read, "'one Spartan who can blend into a civilian environment and is comfortable operating without their armor. Preferable field experience with ONI in the past is prefered.' Can you think of anyone better?”  
"Wait, this is for me?"  
"Yes," replied Palmer. “I mean operate without their armor… I think you’re the one Spartan on this ship who would prefer that. Do you like it?"  
"Like it?" said Reese as he bear-hugged Palmer down onto the bed. "Sarah, I love it."  
Reese kissed Palmer and she wrapped her arms around his neck.  
"Good," said Palmer, "because I told them you're in."  
"Really?"  
"Yup! I knew you'd take it," she said with a smile.  
"You're the best, Sarah" said Reese as he placed his forehead against hers.  
"I know I am," responded Palmer. "Now, since Buck was nice enough to take my shift in the booth, it looks like we have about another hour to ourselves before either of us have to be anywhere. What should we do?"  
"Uh... do you really have a bath bomb?" joked Reese with the straightest face he could manage.  
"Shut up, Reese."  
Palmer kissed him as she pulled the covers over.


End file.
